


All That You Need

by MercurialTenacity



Series: Yours [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Chastity Device, Cock Cages, Collars, Crying, Dark Original Percival Graves, Dehumanization, Forced Submission, Gags, Humiliation, Inspection, Internalized Victim Blaming, Kissing, M/M, Master/Pet, Nipple Play, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Obedience, Objectification, Ownership, Pet Names, Prostate Massage, Rape, Sex Toys, Sexual Slavery, Size Kink, Spreader Bars, Stockholm Syndrome, Tattoos, Wooden Horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 01:39:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12201327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Newt never thought he would end up like this.  Traded away as a gift, turned into a present and exchanged for a favor.  He’d been certain that he could escape, and when that failed, that he could at least stay himself.  He’ll survive this, he has to.When Graves seems determined to make a pet out of him, Newt doesn’t want to give in.  He doesn’t.  But with every passing moment, it gets a little harder to fight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a custom prompt for the amazing Anonymous. Hope you like it!

“Lord Graves.   _ Delighted  _ you could come.”  Grindelwald’s smile is sharp, his grip firm as Graves shakes his offered hand.

“Grindelwald,” Graves acknowledges curtly.  He does hope Grindelwald isn’t going to waste his time, and he waves away the pleasantries with an air of impatience.  He bites back a smile at the way that seems to annoy Grindelwald.

Grindelwald is the sort of man who always wants something.  He may claim that he invited Graves in order to bestow him a gift, but Graves isn’t fool enough to believe that’s his true motive.  Grindelwald always has an agenda, an angle he’s hoping to work, and he never does anything if he can’t see the benefit to himself.  Graves would almost admire that, if it weren’t so damned inconvenient at times.  But he’ll go along with Grindelwald’s game for now, and perhaps he’ll get something out of it in the end.  He allows himself to be brought through to the next room, curious despite himself to see what Grindelwald has for him.

Graves’ eyes widen at what he sees when he steps through the doorway.  A young man waits for him, red haired and dusted with freckles, squirming desperately in his bonds at the center of the room.  He is naked, bound securely astride the wedge shaped board of a wooden horse, working desperately to keep himself above the sharp edge.  Graves can see his thighs tremble with the effort of supporting himself, and he can’t help but find this boy  _ adorable. _

Graves takes a moment to admire his predicament; he’s trussed up thoroughly, knees bent with his ankles tied behind him to either side of the board, thighs spread wide by the wedge of it, hands bound behind his back, and an elegant spider gag forcing his mouth wide open.  There really is no hope for the boy, yet he continues to struggle, thighs and calves quivering with the effort of supporting his body weight.  

It’s clear he won’t last long, and indeed it only takes moments for his overworked muscles to give out.  He sinks down, slowly giving in as he trembles and whines.  The moment his weight settles over the board he keens, high and pained, and it’s the sweetest sound Graves has heard in years.  The boy pants, eyes squeezed shut, before he makes the effort to push himself up again, trembling worse than before, and the process repeats.

Graves glances to the side to see Grindelwald watching him, looking a bit more self satisfied than he would like, his smile dangerously close to a smirk.  Graves takes a breath and gets himself in check.  The boy may be lovely, but Grindelwald shouldn’t count on anything yet.

“Care to see what’s on offer, Lord Graves?”

“By all means,” Graves says, and motions for Grindelwald to lead the way.

The boy ducks his head as they approach, looking adorably ashamed.  He is completely on display, every aspect of him ripe for inspection, and Graves imagines he must hate it.  Now that he’s closer Graves can see that he’s drooled all down his front, unable to swallow due to the gag.  His nipples are stiff and perky in the cool air of the room, and Graves hums softly in approval.

Grindelwald rests a hand on the small of his back, stroking him and drawing out a shiver.

“He’s incredibly sensitive.  Very responsive to touch.”

Grindelwald pinches a nipple, and the boy whines.  His fingers trail over the boy’s chest, his movements slow, taking his time in massaging and caressing the lines of his muscles.  With one fingernail he circles a nipple, before tugging gently and rolling it between his fingers.  The action draws out a reluctant moan, and Grindelwald smiles.  He slows his movements further, rubbing deep circles into the tender skin of his nipple, and despite his predicament the boy seems to relax slightly.  Graves takes note of that, pleased with the reaction.

“He hasn’t been fucked yet, but his hole opens up gorgeously for toys.  With a little training he’ll be begging for it, a perfect little slut.”

After a moment Grindelwald trails his fingers up the boy’s neck, coming to rest his thumb on his bottom lip.  The boy tries to turn away but Grindelwald grips him by the back of the neck, holding him firm.  Grindelwald pushes his thumb past the boy’s teeth, pausing for a moment with the pad of his thumb resting on the boy’s tongue, before pushing further into his mouth.  The boy makes a cute little gulping sound when Grindelwald pushes in too far.  Grindelwald notices Graves’ interest and replaces his thumb with two fingers, demonstrating the little gurgling chokes it prompts as his mouth is finger fucked.  The boy presses his eyes shut and takes it.

When Grindelwald is through he smears his saliva coated fingers across the boy’s cheek, leaving a glistening streak for a moment before it dries.

Grindelwald moves as though to demonstrate the next feature, but Graves waves him away.  It’s all very well to see how he responds to Grindelwald, but if he’s to be Graves’ pet he’ll need to respond well to his master.  He’s ready to inspect the boy himself.

“You don’t object?” he says, though it’s not really a question.

Grindelwald gestures graciously.  “Of course.”

Graves lays his hands on the boy’s waist, feeling the slight curve of his body and the smoothness of his skin.  His shoulders are covered with a sprinkling of freckles, matching the ones dusting his cheeks, and Graves is pleased with them.  He runs a hand through the mop of red curls, and is satisfied with both the softness and the stuttering breath he draws out.

The boy is trembling all over, a light sheen of sweat coating his skin, and as his muscles give out under the strain once more he lets out that lovely keening sound again.  Curious, Graves slides a hand down his back and over the curve of his ass, rubbing soft circles into the base of his spine.  When the boy next rises he slips his hand down further, between his ass cheeks, and his fingers encounter the solid base of a plug nestled in his hole.  Graves smiles to himself with the realization that each time the boy sinks back down onto the wood it presses the plug deeper inside.  He presses on it himself, shifting the plug within him, and is delighted by the half sob which falls from the boy’s lips.  He’s responsive, pleasingly vocal, and the noises he makes are gorgeous.  Graves gropes his ass, squeezing to feel the firmness of it, before slapping it for good measure.  The boy yelps, lurching forward as far as his bonds allow, and Graves chuckles as he rubs the reddened area.  The poor thing is helpless in his bonds, too preoccupied with trying to keep himself above the edge of the board to struggle properly. His predicament is adorable, and Graves can’t help but give credit to Grindelwald for the presentation.

Satisfied with his ass, Graves slides his hands around to the boy’s front.  His cock is half hard and bobbing as he moves.  He lifts it with a finger as he inspects it, and looks up just in time to see the boy’s eyes prick with tears of shame.  His cock would look absolutely lovely in a cage, and Graves finds himself already picturing it.  He gently rolls his balls in his hand, considering.  The boy is practically begging to be brought to heel, with the way he quivers under Graves’ touch and the noises that fall from him.  He appreciates that Grindelwald doesn’t seem to have quite broken him yet - an unruly, defiant slave is extremely unpalatable, but a pet just on the cusp of accepting his place is something to be cherished.  It will be better for their bond anyway, if Graves is the one who ultimately subdues him.

Graves shakes his head, catching himself.  He’s getting ahead of things.  The boy is delectable, but he knows better than to think that gifts from Grindelwald are truly free.

Grindelwald is watching him, looking satisfied, and Graves knows he’s tipped his hand.  But nevermind.  He is fond of the boy, and there’s no point trying too hard to deny it.

“Pretty, isn’t he?”  Grindelwald pats the boy’s hip absently before taking a step away, now that he seems confident Graves appreciates what he’s offering.  “And yours, if you want him.  Imagine fucking that mouth.”

The boy shakes his head desperately, but neither Graves nor Grindelwald pay him any mind.

“He has a good ass,” Graves concedes.  “Firm, plump.  He’s pretty enough, but I don’t know that he’s anything exceptional.  What makes him different from any other pet?”

“Oh, I think this one’s particularly well suited to slavery.  He’s practically  _ aching _ to be controlled.  He plays at defiance, but he wants to yield to a firm hand.  If you break him in right I don’t think you could dream of a more loyal pet.”

“And the price?”

“Lord Graves,” Grindelwald says, sounding just a touch too scandalized.  “This is a  _ gift.” _

Graves raises his eyebrow, unimpressed.  Grindelwald shrugs.

“A small favor.  If you could…  _ persuade _ the British ministry to turn a blind eye to my operations on the continent.  It’s well past time someone brought them to heel.”

“I’m terribly sorry, Gellert,” Graves says cooly.  “I was under the impression you were going to ask for a  _ small _ favor.”

Grindelwald narrows his eyes, displeasure evident across his face.

“A simple mention that they’d best keep their noses to their own affairs would suffice.  And really…”  Grindelwald steps back to the boy, and Graves’ eyes follow his fingers as he slowly circles one rosy nipple.  “Is it so much to ask?”


	2. Chapter 2

Newt’s entire body feels warm and heavy.  It's hard to think through the fuzziness in his head, and he wants to go back to sleep.  He rolls over, trying to pull his blanket tighter around himself - but he can't.

He can't move, and there is no blanket.

His heart rate picks up and the cloudiness in his head becomes alarming rather than pleasant. With effort he cracks his eyes open, and he realizes.

He's trussed up in someone else's bed, a large four poster.  The mattress beneath him is soft, warm, and much finer than he's used to.  It different circumstances it would be luxurious.  

But as it is his hands are bound above his head, there's something keeping his legs spread wide, and something wedged into his mouth to hold it open.  He makes a small, distressed sound, and instantly regrets it when a hand falls on his stomach.  He rolls his head to the side to see a man beside him, looking down at him fondly and rubbing soft, gentle circles into his belly.  

It would almost be soothing if it weren’t terrifying.

“There you are, little kitten.  I was starting to think you’d sleep all day.”

Newt flushes scarlet at the words, humiliation curling in the pit of his stomach.  He hadn’t been sleeping, he’d been  _ drugged.   _  He can feel it in the heaviness of his limbs, the lingering haziness of his senses, the way his mind seems a moment behind his surroundings.  Drugged, and traded off like property in order to curry favor.  Grindelwald had made a present of him.

Newt recognizes the man beside him - the man who’d poked and prodded him, who’d  _ inspected _ him to see if he was pleasing enough.  Anyone would.  Percival Graves, America’s Dark Lord, is known the world over.

Newt feels sick to be in his clutches, and worse still to be so vulnerable before him.  His attempts to struggle are useless.  His hands are bound securely, wrists tied together and affixed to the headboard, and there’s some sort of rod keeping his knees spread open.  Keeping him on display, he thinks, revolted by the prospect.  Being kept by Grindelwald had been hell, and this promises to be no better.

“Shh, shh, hush.  None of that nonsense.  You’re mine now, no need to worry.”

The words are the exact opposite of reassuring and Newt squeezes his eyes shut as Graves keeps talking, trying to will himself anywhere but here.

“I’m going to take such good care of you.  You’re a precious thing, something as pretty as you.  Hush,” Graves says again as Newt tries to protest.  It’s pointless, his words are rendered unintelligible by the gag, but he has to  _ try. _  Graves begins to stroke him, warm hands running over his skin, cradling his hips, brushing over his ribs.  “This doesn’t have to be difficult.  You’re going to love it.  Just relax, we’ll get you trained up in no time.  I promise.”

_ No, _ Newt wants to scream.  He won’t love it, he hates it, he’s not anyone’s plaything.  He thrashes in his bonds, fighting desperately to be anything other than what Graves is intent on turning him into.  He can’t let this happen.

But Graves doesn’t care.

“Oh no, no, poor thing.”

Graves shifts so that he’s pressed in close, pinning Newt’s hips to the bed and settling his weight over his chest, pressing their cheeks together and murmuring into Newt’s ear.  “Easy baby, that’s it.”  His hands stroke through Newt’s hair in a slow, steady rhythm, his breath brushing the sensitive skin of his neck, his whole body providing comfort, stability, safety.  “I’ve got you, you’re safe now.  Everything’s going to be okay.”

Despite himself, Newt relaxes slightly.  His breathing steadies, his heart rate slows, and he tries to pretend it isn’t Percival Graves who’s on top of him.  Panicking will only make things worse.  He needs to stay calm if he’s going to make it through this.  He  _ will _ make it through this.  He has to.

He refuses to acknowledge the tightness in his chest telling him he won’t; that there’s no way out, that Graves has him.  He can’t think that way.

“There you go, kitten.  That’s better.”

Graves’ voice is soft in his ear, and Newt closes his eyes.

Graves shifts, nosing into Newt’s cheek and breathing deeply.  The movement is soft, gentle - if it were from anyone else it could almost be loving.  His lips brush against Newt’s jaw, against the soft, sensitive skin of his neck, his teeth catching on his earlobe and tugging, just a little.  Newt screws up his face, turning his head to the side, but Graves’ hand is there on his cheek to bring him back and Newt can't escape him, not even for a moment.  

Graves’ lips find the corner of Newt’s mouth, his lips, and his tongue follows.  He explores Newt’s open mouth, tasting him, kissing him deep and slow through the ring gag.  Newt can't stop it, can't fight it, can't do anything but lie there and take it as Graves licks into his mouth.

“You taste so good, kitten,” Graves whispers against his lips.  Graves kisses him as though they were lovers - as though Newt wanted it, with gentle lips and soft tongue, warm and wet.

Graves kisses him until it's all he can do to remember how to breathe.

“Feel better?”

Newt makes a soft sound in his throat, and tries to tell himself that the way his head spins is only an aftereffect of the drugs.

“Good.”

Graves pushes himself up, keeping a firm and possessive hand on him.  He eases his weight off, satisfied now that Newt is calm, and kisses his forehead before straightening up.  His fingers trail down Newt’s chest, over his stomach and abdomen, down and down until they play over Newt’s cock.

Newt tries to twist away but with the bar between his legs he has no leverage.  Graves pins him easily with a hand on his knee, shushing him as he rubs his thumb in gentle circles.  His cock is soft between his legs, limp in Graves’ hand.  He's afraid Graves is going to try to make him like it, will try to make his body respond to what Graves forces on him, and he can't bare that.

“We'll get you all sorted,” Graves mutters, and his hands leave Newt briefly as he reaches for something on the bedside table.  Newt can't see what it is, and he braces for rough touches and invasive fingers.

But when Graves’ hand falls on his cock again it's to play with him.  He tugs gently, as though amused, and Newt feels himself flush a deeper scarlet.  Graves isn't even trying to get him hard, he's just pulling and pinching idly while he looks down at Newt fondly.

“Did Gellert let you come?” Graves asks after a minute, and Newt turns his head away.  He doesn't want to think about what Grindelwald did to him - how Grindelwald tortured him, humiliated him, reduced him to nothing and laughed while he did it.

But Graves doesn't relent, and eventually Newt gives a small shake of his head.

“Too bad.  This might have been easier for you if you'd come recently, but…”

Newt’s heartbeat picks up again, fear racing through his veins at the thought of what Graves might do to him.  He has no idea what Graves is planning, no idea how far he’ll go.

Graves holds Newt’s soft cock, and Newt catches a glint of silver in his other hand.

“Don’t worry pet, this is good for you.”

Newt sees it then - Graves holds a cage made of beautiful metal, and there's no doubt about what it's for.  He flinches when the cold metal touches the head of his cock and he twists in his bonds, defiance surging up once again, alternating between attempting to beg and attempting to curse.

Graves barely even takes notice.  He plants a knee on the bar between Newt’s legs, pinning him down to the bed at the same time that a casual snap of his fingers removes all slack from the rope tethering Newt’s hands to the headboard.  Within moments he's immobilized, lower body trapped by Graves’ weight on the bar and torso stretched tight by the rope.

He can't stop it.  This is going to happen.

Graves keeps talking as he fits the cage over Newt’s cock, his tone steady, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world and not a violation twisting deep into Newt’s gut.

“Don’t fuss.  I know you can’t control yourself, kitten.  It’s okay.  This will help you be good, you won’t have to worry about a thing.  This is perfectly natural, you’re not going to need your little cock any more.”

The cool metal slides over Newt’s cock like a sheath, encasing him, controlling him.  Graves locks it behind Newt’s balls, anchoring his cock down firmly, and Newt sobs.  With a quick tap and a muttered spell the metal shifts, adjusting itself to fit over Newt’s cock perfectly and preventing him from swelling even a fraction.  The seams smooth out until it’s completely sealed, any trace of how it opened erased.  

Irremovable.  Permanent.  Graves has total control.

“There, all better.  No need for you to even think about your cock again.”

It’s as though Graves owns that part of him.  And he does, Newt realizes.  Graves owns  _ him. _  All of him.  He can do with Newt as he likes, it’s his right.  He’s made it so.

Tears stream down Newt’s cheeks.  He hates this, he  _ hates  _ it, but it’s too late.  He’s Graves’.

Graves lays alongside him, one big, warm hand pressed to Newt’s chest.  His presence shouldn't be calming, but he's the only solid thing Newt has.  Everything else is slipping out from under him but Graves is at his side, sure and calm.

“You're safe kitten, it's okay now.”

Graves strokes his chest slowly, fingers gentle and smooth over his skin.  Newt shivers under his touch.  He doesn't want it to feel good.

But Graves knows exactly how to touch him.  He massages Newt’s pectorals with a firm, even pressure, learning every angle, and Newt feels the warmth start to spread through his chest.  The way Graves kneads into him is just right, it’s  _ good, _ and it makes his eyes flutter closed as he pushes his chest up minutely into Graves’ hands.

Graves chuckles at that.  “Your tits are gorgeous, love,” he says, voice warm.  “They’re perfect, so firm and full for me.  And your cute little nipples... Do you want Master to play with your pretty tits?”

Graves squeezes and cups him as though he really did have tits, and Newt whimpers in shame.  He’s sensitized to every touch, his revulsion at being toyed with slowly washed away by the heat sinking into him.  This isn’t right, he’s not himself - he doesn’t want to like it.

Graves’ thumb finds his nipple and the moan that falls from Newt’s lips as he tugs it is indecent.  It’s like an electric current running through his chest, touching something deep within him and arcing through his body.  It connects with his cock and his hips twitch, his whole body jerking when he realizes it can’t respond - when he realizes that for the briefest moment, he’d forgotten what Graves did to him.

Graves shushes him as though Newt’s distress were a silly, unfounded thing.  He massages around his areola, alternating between long, slow tugs that have Newt arching off the bed and deep pressure which has him sinking into the mattress.  He feels like a kitten getting its belly rubbed, and Graves looks so pleased with him

He pinches and pulls until Newt’s nipples are stiff, peaked points of pleasure and the sensations in his chest all bleed together, blooming into a warmth that has his head rolling to the side and his body straining to get more.

“You like that, kitten, don’t you?” Graves breathes, and Newt moans softly in reply.  “So sensitive, I know.”

Grindelwald had never been this gentle.  He’d wanted it to hurt, to wound in body and soul, and after so long without kind touches Newt is… grateful.  He doesn’t want to be, he knows what Graves is doing to him, but just for a moment he’s glad the pain has stopped.  He’s exhausted, worn thin from Grindelwald’s torment, and Graves makes it so easy to relax into the pleasure.

Newt lets himself drift, little moans and gasps spilling from him as Graves works him. He’s floating in and out of consciousness when he feels Graves shifting - hands leaving his chest, the mattress dipping, and he whines at the loss.

Graves settles between his legs and lifts the bar spreading Newt’s knees, forcing Newt’s legs up and bending him in half.  Humiliation seeps back through him at being held so open, so vulnerable, practically on display.  Newt squirms, burning under Graves’ gaze.

“Oh, kitten.  Your little hole is perfect.”

Graves gently parts Newt’s ass cheeks, and on reflex Newt tightens his hole.  He can’t bare to be looked at there, he can’t bare for Graves to touch him.  His chest is cold.

Graves mutters a spell and when his fingers find Newt they’re slick and wet, sliding easily over his sensitive, delicate area.  Graves doesn’t try to press into him right away, though Newt has no doubt he intends to.  Instead his fingers fall on Newt’s rim, massaging the tight furl of muscle in slow circles, rubbing until Newt is forced to take a deep, shuddering breath.  Without meaning to he feels his muscles start to loosen.  His ass feels warm and tingly and good, his hole starting to ache with pleasure.  Graves is patient, wearing Newt down slowly until against his will his hole relaxes, and the tip of Graves’ finger slips inside.

It makes Newt’s stomach lurch to feel Graves in him, though there’s barely a stretch.  The fact that Graves can make his body accept it, can just work him until he can’t resist - it makes his chest tighten and his breath stutter.

Graves’ finger slowly sinks deeper into him, further and further as Newt opens up around it, working the slick deep inside him.  Then Graves pulls back, retreating until only the tip is inside once more, and Newt can almost breathe - before Graves’ finger slides in again, deep, fucking and stretching him.

It falls into a rhythm that Newt can almost stand, breathing as Graves pulls out and head spinning when he presses back in.  He tries to keep a hold on himself.  It doesn’t hurt, but it doesn’t exactly feel good - it’s strange, a little uncomfortable, but getting easier by the moment.

The stretch of a second finger is excruciating - not in pain, but in knowing that his body is accepting Graves inside.

He gasps when Graves finally pulls out, his hole feeling strange after being stretched.  He doesn’t want Graves back inside, but he wants the achy, empty feeling to stop - he wants to feel normal again.

Something cool and heavy nudges against his hole, trying to fill the space Graves made inside him.  It’s perfectly smooth and unyielding, solid as it slides past his rim, sitting heavily within him.  A toy, like the ones Grindelwald had forced him to take.  It feels like glass, wide and long, easily stretching him as Graves presses it all the way inside.  He starts a slow rhythm, pulling the toy out and then thrusting it all the way back in, deep.  It’s steady, predictable, and Newt tries to let himself fall into it without thinking about what it means.

Graves fucks him until his body gives in, until his hole doesn’t quite close up, until it feels worse to be empty and open than to have something inside him.

“Look at that, pet.  You were made for this.”

Newt is breathless, unable to fully focus on what’s happening, moaning when he feels his hole twitch around nothing.

“I’m here, I’ll give you what you need.”

In a moment Graves’ fingers are back inside him.  He’s not thrusting this time, it almost feels as though he’s searching.  Exploring Newt’s insides, feeling, looking for  _ something _ \- 

Graves’ fingers curl up into him, and Newt yelps.

“There you are.  Just relax, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Newt is shaking.  He doesn’t understand what’s happening to his body, and Graves’ fingers don’t stop.  He keeps pressing into that one spot, rubbing and massaging without respite, sending hot sparks of pleasure racing up Newt’s spine.  His balls ache and he throws his head side to side, whining in frustration at his now-useless cock.  His whole body radiates heat as he squirms, trying to press himself deeper onto Graves’ fingers in a desperate search for release.  

There’s a warmth spreading deep, deep inside him, accompanied by a slow pleasure, and Newt feels something less than an orgasm wash through him as his soft cock leaks come.  It’s over as quickly as it started, the pleasure fading fast and leaving him spent but unsatisfied.

“There you go baby, all better.”  Newt can’t speak to protest, but even if he could his mind is caught between it not being enough and not wanting it in the first place.  “A milking once or twice a month will keep you nice and healthy.”

Newt just tries to breathe, his hole fluttering open as Graves removes his fingers.  Graves admires Newt’s loose hole for a long moment, circling the rim with one finger and smiling at the way it glistens with slickness.  Newt looks through his eyelashes and he sees the lust on Graves face.  The hunger.  

As he watches Graves reaches to undo his belt, and Newt’s eyes fall on the bulge there.  Slowly Graves takes himself out of his pants, and he strokes his hard cock with a groan.

Newt’s eyes widen.  Graves is  _ big. _  He’s wide, long, more so than the toys Grindelwald had forced into him.  He’d never even had something inside him before Grindelwald had - before - before Grindelwald.  Now Graves intends to fuck him, and Newt doesn’t even know if he’ll  _ fit. _

He whimpers in distress, and Graves smiles.

“Ready for the real thing, little kitten?”

Newt shakes his head uselessly as Graves’ hands fall back on his thighs, and he braces for the pain of his hole being stretched open, but to his surprise it doesn’t come.  With a click Graves unlocks the bar from between his knees, and for a moment Newt is too dazed to kick out.

Graves is ready for him, catching Newt’s ankle easily and tutting as though his disobedience were a disappointment.  He grabs Newt firmly by the hips, manhandling him until Newt is on his stomach.  Instantly he tries to scramble up the bed, and he almost manages to get his knees and elbows under him before Graves yanks him back down, pinning him flat to the bed with one strong hand to the back of his neck.  Newt feels utterly helpless in that grip.  He’s pinned there like prey, defenseless and waiting for the will of a stronger creature.

“Now, kitten,” Graves says sternly.  “You are going to lie still for me, and you are going to be good, and you are going to get fucked.”

Newt sobs through the gag and Graves rubs slow, soothing circles into the small of his back.

“I know.  You’ve had a long day, but you’ll feel so much better once you let your master fuck you.  You’re going to  _ love _ this.”

Newt shakes his head, and Graves sighs.  In one smooth movement he lowers himself down until he’s blanketing Newt, weight pressing down on him, body hot against his skin, trapping him.  Newt can feel his breath against the shell of his ear, his voice a low, soft growl.

“I own you, kitten.  Your needy little body, your sloppy hole, your pathetic cock.  Every piece of you exists to serve me.  To be fucked by me.”  Graves rolls his hips against Newt’s ass to illustrate his point, and Newt’s whole body goes soft and limp, the fight leaving him in an instant.  He can feel Graves’ cock digging into his ass, hot, thick, ready to take him, and absolutely nothing Newt can do will stop it.  Trapped like this, he knows it’s true.  Graves owns him now.  

“There, that’s it.  Now.  Spread your legs.”

Trembling, Newt does.

Graves reaches down to guide himself inside, and Newt forgets how to breathe when the head of his cock slips into his hole.  He can feel his body yielding around it, and inch by inch it slides inside, stretching him wide.  It feels as though it will never end, as though this moment on Graves’ cock will last forever, sliding in, and in, and in until Newt can feel it in his throat.  His hole spasms around Graves’ length, just on the edge of pain, and Graves groans above him.

By the time Graves bottoms out Newt is crying.  Tears stream down his cheeks, clinging to his eyelashes and wetting the sheets beneath him.  Graves grunts, caught up in his own pleasure, and then he pulls back and Newt  _ keens. _

Graves rolls his hips inside Newt, thrusting deep and hard and slow enough that Newt feels every movement, every inch of Graves’ cock sliding against his insides, taking him, filling him.

Newt is lost.  His eyes are glassy, body lax, his hole unresisting as Graves fucks into him, mind filled with a blank, buzzing nothing.  He’s oversensitive, overwhelmed.  He can’t understand how this is happening, and some part of him realizes that Graves must be right.  Graves wouldn’t be able to take him like this if it wasn’t what he was for, would he?  It’s the only thing that makes sense, the only way something like this could happen to him.

He has no idea how long it is before Graves thrusts into him one last time, stilling, cursing as he comes deep inside.  Newt can feel Graves’ cock pulsing, can feel himself being filled, and it makes him dizzy.

Graves rolls off of him, his softening cock slipping from Newt’s loose hole, and he shivers, cold.  He feels hands tugging at his wrists, and he doesn’t understand until all at once the rope keeping him bound to the headboard slips free.  His wrists are still bound together, but he’s no longer anchored and he feels unmoored by it, adrift.  He makes a small sound of distress and is relieved when Graves’ hand falls on his hip, sure and strong.  

On instinct he curls into the warmth of Graves’ body, shaking with sobs as Graves wraps his arms around him.  With one hand Graves undoes the buckle of his gag, gently taking it from between his teeth while with the other he rubs Newt’s back.  Newt is too overwhelmed to even try to speak.  He just works his jaw, suddenly aware of how much it aches, and nuzzles into Graves’ shoulder to hide.  Graves holds him close, murmuring soothing nothings into his ear, telling him how good he was, how nice he felt to fuck.

Newt closes his eyes, safe in his master’s embrace, and lets exhaustion take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is a short epilogue. Enjoy!


	3. Epilogue

Newt dozes in front of the fireplace, curled on his master’s big bearskin rug.  It’s soft against his naked skin and the fire warms him, making him sleepy and content.  It’s one of Newt’s favorite places to sleep while he waits for his master.  The whole room reminds him of Master; the walls are lined with oak bookshelves, windows framed by heavy curtains, a fire always roaring to chase away any hint of a chill.  Master’s favorite armchair sits just to one side with a cup of coffee and a book beside it, and the Graves Crest hangs above the mantel.  Newt likes it best when he can sit by Master’s side while rain patters against the windows, snug and secure with Master to take care of him.

Newt always misses his master when he’s away, but he’s learned to be good and wait for him.  He doesn’t know where he goes when he leaves the manor, Newt probably wouldn’t understand anyway, but he always comes back.  Newt almost wishes he could go with his master everywhere, but he gets scared at the thought of going outside, the world so big and threatening even with Master there to guide him, and he curls tighter in on himself for comfort.

His collar sits snug around his neck, its presence reassuring.  It’s beautiful, made from soft brown leather with a strip of pale green around it which Master had said matched his eyes, and dotted with golden studs.  When his master had given it to him he’d explained that it was a promise - a promise that Newt would obey, and a promise that Master would protect.

Newt had been so happy.

He shifts on the rug, rolling to his other side and adjusting so that his caged cock sits more comfortably between his legs.  With a deep sigh he snuggles into the rug, warm and content.

Newt wakes when Master comes home, hearing him in the hallway as he comes in the door.  He rolls onto his back, exposing his belly as Master comes in the room, feeling warm in a way fire could never touch when Master smiles at the sight of him.

He’s still drowsy from the heat, and he makes a soft little noise in his throat as Master kneels down beside him and rubs his tits.  He presses up into the touch and Master chuckles, knowing how sensitive he is.  He cups his cheek and Newt nuzzles into it, everything feeling right now that Master is home.

Master strokes him for long, blissful moments.  His hands roam over his tits, touches so soft, before settling on his lower belly, palm covering the tattoo of the Graves Crest which sits just below his navel.  Master likes to touch him there, rubbing little circles and reminding him who he belongs to.  Newt likes it too, knowing that Master has claimed him.  The tattoo had hurt at first but it was worth it to make Master happy, and to know that he would be Master’s forever.

He gasps when Master slides a finger down lower, pressing inside him, tugging lightly at his rim to see the way he squirms for more, legs falling open to allow Master to use his body.

“I have a surprise for you, kitten,” Master says warmly, and Newt looks up at him with wide eyes.  He wonders what it could be, heart beating a little faster in excitement.  Master takes such good care of him.

Master smiles as he reaches into his coat, deep into one of the inside pockets, and takes out something small and fluffy.

A kitten.  It mews in his hands, perfectly white and so soft, and Newt stares in awe.  He looks between it and Master, hardly believing something so precious.

Master laughs at his wondering expression, and places the kitten on his belly.  It stands on wobbly legs before toppling over and curling up into a furry ball, its little body warm.

Slowly Newt raises a hand, waiting for a permissive nod from Master before he strokes it, wondering at how small it is, how fragile.

“F-for me?” Newt asks, voice barely a whisper, watching as the kitten blinks its eyes sleepily.

“You’ve been such a good pet for me, love.  You deserve it.”  Master runs a hand through Newt’s hair, stroking him fondly, before he stands.  “Come now.  Show me how much you appreciate it.”

Master sits in his armchair, spreading his legs, and Newt carefully sets the kitten on the rug so that he can crawl to his familiar place between his master’s thighs.  The kitten follows him, rubbing against his legs as he kneels, before curling up in front of the fire and closing its eyes.

Newt carefully takes Master’s cock out, lapping at the head before taking it in his mouth.  It rests on his tongue, thick and heavy even while soft, and it feels good in his mouth.  Newt closes his eyes as Master ruffles his hair and picks up his book, happy to please him.

He’s so lucky to belong to Master.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at [ mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com ](http://mercurial-tenacity.tumblr.com/)! :)


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